Frenetic Hearts
by DumpingGrounds
Summary: For a moment, trapped beneath the intensity of his stare and the weight of his longing, Elizabeth felt as if they were back inside the OR, standing on opposite sides of the same patient, latex gloves glistening red against white light. Those same eyes looking back at her from over the top of a hot surgical mask. - A Cordano fanfiction.


**Author's Note:** This is a Cordano ( Robert x Elizabeth ) fanfiction. It succeeds the death of Mark Greene and contains the amputation of Robert's arm; however, there will be no helicopters crushing my favorite, snarky doctor to death.

Reviews are appreciated, as this is my first fanfiction in years (and my first ER fanfiction ever). Thank you, and I hope you enjoy! :^)

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 **" Fracture "**

 _begin_

* * *

"Robert?!"

The once-exceptional surgeon groaned in response to Elizabeth's call. He was lying face-down on cold, wet pavement and was fairly close to the entrance of a local bar.

"Lizzie," he replied coolly, as if she hadn't discovered him like this and instead, crossed paths with him somewhere inside the hospital. She was swiftly approaching him, long before he tried pushing himself up and off the ground.

"What happened?" She inquired with her usual determination, kneeling beside him so she could secure a firm hand around his bicep. Together, they managed to get him to his feet, but she was hesitant to release her hold on him, suspecting he may fall over without her support. Unsurprisingly, he rejected her aid and freed his arm from her grasp.

She didn't fight him, but she _did_ regard him with a small, fleeting look of incredulity for his behavior, even if he wasn't facing her to see it. He was born to be difficult; Shirley once referred to him as a "bull in a China cabinet" since the loss of his arm, a phrase Elizabeth told Shirley she'd never heard before but understood the meaning of. She had to admit, it was fitting for Robert, though she never told him so, and neither did Shirley.

She noticed he was leering beyond frosted windows and into the bar.

"I told the truth, as I do best. None of that phony crap everyone else will tell that sorry-sack-of-human-waste," there was a brief pause and then a puff of his chest before he raised his voice to add, "for the sake of protecting his precious feelings!"

"Robert..." It was meant to be a warning but it still came out softer than she intended. It was obvious his already unstable temper was not pairing well with drinks he must have consumed. She only hoped his yelling wouldn't draw attention to them.

While he was preoccupied with his antics, she took the time to really examine his face beneath the streetlight. He'd been struck across the jaw and his cheek scraped upon impact with the ground. Clearly, someone had had enough of his impertinent mouth. Not that he appeared bothered by the fact he'd enraged someone enough to be assaulted and effectively tossed outside like some ragdoll. She wasn't even sure he was aware his prosthetic was missing.

"Your arm..." She pointed out, a bit awkwardly.

He looked at her, finally, his feral emotions flaring briefly.

"That is _not_ my arm." It was sharp, unforgiving.

A moment of silence disturbed them. During it, Robert scrutinized her with dark eyes and a set jaw. She did not cower beneath his gaze the way so many others did, and although she was more than capable of equal ferocity, she remained neutral, simply watching him as he watched her.

"Ah, delaying a little rendezvous, am I?" He quipped suddenly, temperature rising.

He must have realized her attire, the red dress peeking out from underneath a winter coat, as well as the subtle application of makeup. She believed neither of them were worth the abrupt change of subject, it certainly wasn't any of his business whether or not she was out to meet someone. She was tempted to confirm it, out loud, but he'd already been kicked. She refused to bring him further down.

"You're drunk, and you've gotten yourself hurt because of it." She stated, folding her arms across her chest.

"Impeccable observation, Sherlock," he retorted.

Genuinely wounded by his remark, Elizabeth creased her brows, the corners of her lips sagging somewhat. "I'm serious, Robert."

"Your concern for my well-being is deeply appreciated, Lizzie, but not necessary." He bent and hastily retrieved his prosthetic from the damp ground, his expression screwed with distaste. "You should be more concerned about tonight's lucky winner."

It was the second jab he'd made about her date and it was just as intentional as the first one, and once again, she ignored the bait. She would not confirm the accusation. Impatience _did_ breach the surface of her cool exterior, however.

"You can think and say what you please, but it changes nothing!" She hated how easily he could manipulate her feelings.

He looked at her. A long time Robert looked at her, his chest rising and falling fast with every inhale and exhale. His shoulders seemed heavy with defeat, his heart plagued by a misery he pretended did not exist. Everyone was aware of it, but he was especially bad at hiding it around her.

Truly, she ached for him. She understood what it meant to be a surgeon, but Robert had dedicated himself to a degree most could not fathom. He took pride in the things he could do, the miracles he could perform. She missed the thrill of it, of watching him work. She missed working _with_ him, especially on the days when he made her feel her best - when he would compliment her and flaunt her among their colleagues. In some ways, it felt wrong to enjoy it so much, but it was difficult not to when it came from someone like him...

For a moment, trapped beneath the intensity of his stare and the weight of his longing, Elizabeth felt as if they were back inside the OR, standing on opposite sides of the same patient, latex gloves glistening red against white light. Those same eyes looking back at her from over the top of a hot surgical mask. In a moment where she was afraid of what he was thinking and yet desperate to know all at once. Her throat felt tight, her mouth dry... When she and Robert were in the same room, operating on the same patient, nothing else mattered. Only the life they were trying to save and the magnetic energy that pulled their spirits closer together, until they were one. _A single mind, body, and soul._

"Nothing changes, indeed." He replied evenly, his voice leading her back to reality. To the bar, the cold air, his drunken state. His pain.

"I'm sorry... I am," she told him, exposing herself. Her fingers curled defensively into the arms of her coat.

"I know." It was rare that Robert ever allowed himself to sound so quiet, so tame. Elizabeth cherished his vulnerability as much as she admired his confidence; it reminded her a man existed beneath the facade of a raging beast. A man with a genuine heart and feelings that wounded more than he let on. Even now, he did not allow her to see him completely. It was only a glimpse inside his agony, a mere reminder of what he carried with him day-to-day since a helicopter severed his arm and turned his life upside down.

"You should let someone look you over." Elizabeth suggested in order to steer them back on track - to pull him out from the corner she somehow managed to back him into.

He appeared confused, brows furrowing. "You'd let _anyone_ handle me? I'm precious goods, you know!" He feigned his disbelief, as well as the anger in his tone.

She knew, and so she smiled a little. "By someone, I of course meant me."

"You better have." He too, lightened up, though it was not without his usual self-satisfaction.

"Not because I wouldn't trust another doctor with you; rather, I'd hardly trust you to behave."

"No, please, stop. You're gonna make me blush, Lizzie!"

At that, she couldn't help the soft laughter that spilled from glossy lips. It didn't matter what she said, he always fired back. It was one of the things she loved most about their friendship, their ability to bounce freely off one another.

"I've got a first-aid kit inside my car. You'll come with me, yeah?" She asked.

"Lead the way." Still holding onto his prosthetic, he used it to gesture forward sarcastically. The fact he had yet to reattach the bloody thing caused her to purse her lips, but she was walking in the direction of her car anyway. So long as he wasn't throwing it at glass windows or brandishing it around in someone's face, she supposed she didn't mind if he chose to wear it or not.

"You sure your date can wait?" Another prod, but nothing threatening. Nothing selfish, most importantly. It was a serious question, another side of himself he did not often allow to surface.

With a smile, she looked over at him and said, "I'm positive."

* * *

 **" Fracture "**

 _end_

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 **Author's Note:** There's a strong chance this will end up as nothing more than dumping grounds for my obsessive need to have Robert and Elizabeth be together. ^^; I hope you all will stick with me regardless! Thank you for reading (and here's an extra gush of appreciation to those who review)!


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